Twisted Crimson
by StarSign
Summary: An injured Scar is captured and caged beneath Central's streets. But why and by whom? When all hope seems lost can the Ishbalan even be saved? The Elric's are not going to give up.  - Poor Scar, it's not his day.  Rated to be safe.
1. Chapter 1  Careless

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and make no gain from this.**_

_My first FMA story and my second story overall. Yay!_

_I apologise for any spelling, grammatical errors in advance. It tends to go from brain to paper/screen pretty quickly with me so sometimes it can be a bit messy but hopefully not unreadable._

_Poor Scar. ; . ;_

_It's just not his day._

**TWISTED CRIMSON**

**Chapter 1 - Careless**

It was after sunset in Central and as the city's streetlamps flickered on one by one, bathing the streets in a soft glow, a tall figure hurried through the alleys-all the while staying as close to the walls as possible to avoid any chance of being seen.

Stopping to rest heavily against a wall the man glanced down at his side and discovered the blood seeping from the bullet wound there had yet to stop.

_Damn it._

He had been careless.

He was still healing from his run-in with the Elric's and the big-muscled Major but did not want to wait for his wounds to finish healing in the slums. So he had left the care of his Ishbalan brethren and returned to the city.

He knew he was no where near ready to take on a State Alchemist again so soon, so he figured he would just lay low and scout out his next victim from a distance while his wounds finished healing. A reasonable plan, or so he thought.

Only moving around Central unnoticed was now a lot harder. It was bad enough that security had been tightened after the murders so many State Alchemists but after the body of the girl-chimera had been found-any movement around the city without being noticed had become almost impossible and he was spotted on the second night running down an alley.

Without any hesitation the soldiers had opened fire and he had been forced to use his right arm to destroy the ground beneath their feet to get away.

Unfortunately he had not been quick enough.

One bullet passed right through his thigh-thankfully it missed the bone-while another hit his left side just below the ribs. Both wounds bled profusely. Removing his jacket and shirt he had quickly used the shirt to bandage the wounds, ripping it down the middle and tying one length of fabric around his leg while the other he wrapped gently around his torso before carefully shrugging his jacket back on.

It slowed the bleeding but he knew it was only temporary and that if he didn't escape the streets of the city soon the military would be sure to find him.

Breathing raggedly he pushed himself away from the wall and continued onward. The sound of running footsteps in the distance caused him to quicken his pace and push past the dizziness that was slowly growing. His legs felt heavy and he kept a hand on the nearest wall for support as he pressed on.

Knowing that he would probably pass-out before reaching the safety of the slums – already feeling his strength slipping away. He realised that his only option was to get off the streets and away from the military before he was sighted again – and there was only one place he could think off where he knew the soldiers wouldn't readily look for him and he grimaced at the prospect.

_Great._

Hurrying to the nearest manhole cover he used the little strength he had left to heave the thick metal lid to one side before slipping down the ladder and-quietly as he could-sliding the cover back into place.

Once his feet touching the ground he staggered, and sagged tiredly against the sewer wall.

_Now what?_

With a sick feeling - he realised that even if he managed to avoid the military he still needed urgent medical attention.

Glancing down at his injuries, he grimaced at the sight.

Although the wound on his leg stopped bleeding a while ago, he knew the injury on side would not heal without help, and the slums were the only place he could go to where he would not be judged – but they were still miles away.

He probably wouldn't make it there before he bled out anyway but still – there was nowhere else for him to go.

Gritting his teeth against the pain he pushed off a little from the wall and began making his way carefully down the tunnel. The darkness in the sewer was oppressive. Even the thin shards of moonlight coming through the drains were barely enough to see by – but still he pressed on, taking one cautious step after another so as not to slip on the slimy stone.

He must have only been walking for a few minutes when the sound of movement behind him caut his attention, causing him stop dead. Turning swiftly he caught a glimpse of something through the blackness but just as he turned more fully to face the potential threat a shot rang out and something sharp pierced his neck. Reaching back to pull out the offending object – crimson eyes widened as he stared at the little silver dart in horror.

_Damn it!_

Tossing the dart away he turned quickly but only managed a few steps before his legs gave out beneath him and he crashed to the floor with a pained shout – eyes squeezed shut against the agony radiating from his side. A cold, numbing sensation was spreading quickly throughout his body – it made his arms and legs feel stiff and heavy

'_Must be whatever was in the dart – I can't even feel the wound on my leg anymore.'_

As the fallen Ishbalan lay on the ground, breathing heavily, the faint sound of footfalls echoing through the tunnel caught his attention and he twisted as much as his numbing body would allow to see who had come to claim him. His eyes widened at what he saw and he would have scrambled away had limbs not felt so heavy and his vision not starting to grey around the edges.

The darkness was closing in rapidly around him, and the last thing he saw was the figure kneel down next to him and reach out. Despite the drowsiness he still managed to flinch slightly from the hand that tried to touch him – this earned a chuckle from his would be captor.

'_Well now, this is a surprise. Oh no, don't get up my friend. You see, you've saved me a great deal of trouble by being here. With your help I can continue my research.' _

He did not like the sound of that – not one bit, and if his brain weren't so foggy from the dart he would have lashed out with his right arm.

The figure got to his feet and Scar was faintly aware that he was being lifted – feeling arms too big to be human curling behind his knees and around his back. The monster cradled him carefully, close to its' chest as if he were a child and mindful of the Ishbalan's injuries.

For the first time fear began to coil in Scar's stomach and he was afraid of what he would find when he woke up.

Squeezing his eyes shut he allowed his head to rest against the fur of his captor chest while he tried desperately not to panic.

Luckily he didn't have too long to wait as the drug finally won the battle and he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

**TBC…**

_**Like it? Hate it? Indifferent?**_

_**Please let me know.**_


	2. Chapter 2  Waking

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and make no gain from this.**_

_Yay! Thank you for the reviews._

_Yeah, I know it's probably not a big surprise and you all figured it out anyway, but damn! _

_It's hard trying to subtly introduce a seven-foot tall, fur covered, creepy chimera. :P _

_Please note: I rattled this out in a hurry so I apologise for any errors._

_Chapter two._

**Chapter 2 – Waking**

Consciousness returned much too slowly for Scar's liking.

He didn't know if it was an after effect of the dart or whether his captor had given him something else upon bringing him to wherever he had planned to take him, but neither his mind or his body would cooperate properly. His head felt foggy – like he was seeing everything through a thick haze – his thoughts just out of reach. The strange heaviness in his limbs from before was still there – a feeling, which he noted even with the manacles binding his wrists behind his back.

Moving slowly, Scar levered himself into a more upright position, leaning his shoulder against the wall so he wouldn't immediately slide back to the floor.

Gazing round with clouded eyes - the first thing he noticed – strangely enough - was how cold it was. Being born and raised in the desert Scar was not accustomed to cold. Even in Central the first thing the Ishbalan truly hated about the city was how cold it was when night came and vowed never to remain during the winter months regardless of his mission.

But this place was _cold_…..and damp – he could smell moss and mildew and it made him shiver involuntarily. Reaching down to pull his jacket tighter around himself he startled when his hands came into contact – not with the stiff material of his jacket – but with a rougher, much thinner fabric.

Frowning, he glanced down to see exactly what he was wearing and could not contain his gasp of surprise.

Gone were his clothes and in their place he wore a pair of loose fitting grey pants with a matching tunic. Both articles appeared to be made of the same material and - despite being at least two sizes too big – were nowhere near thick enough to keep him warm in a place this cold.

Sighing in frustration, another realisation suddenly drifted to him through the fog.

His wounds no longer hurt as much and a quick check under the edge of his 'new' shirt confirmed his suspicions – a thick, white gauze was wrapped tightly around his lower torso, effectively sealing the bullet wound. Scar cast a glance at his thigh and had a sinking feeling that – if he were to look – he would find a similar bandage.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm his racing heart, the Ishbalan once again attempted to focus on his surroundings.

He appeared to be in some kind of small cell…really small. In fact, if he were to lay down and stretched out to his full length, the top of his head and the soles of his feet would probably touch the walls. A tiny sliver of an opening at the very top of the wall he leaned against offered the only source of light but, even if he could stand up, he was too weak to investigate it - so he just allowed himself to rest easy, knowing that at least he could see it was daylight outside. Night had apparently been and gone, giving him at least some idea of how long he had been unconscious.

Sliding his gaze across to the opposite wall – Scar felt his breath catch in his chest.

As he feared, a row of heavy iron bars lined the outer wall of the cell – leading into a darkened room beyond where he could just about make out the outline of a door against the wall outside.

Stretching his arms carefully behind him – Scar tested the metal bonds around his wrists but both the cuffs and the chain connecting them remained solid – unyielding. Closing his eyes tightly he tried to focus on shattering the chain using the power concealed within his right arm and…

….nothing happened.

Clenching his fists, he growled in frustration.

The drug in his system was clouding his concentration and he couldn't focus on the chain long enough to destroy it.

Breathing heavily from exertion – Scar no longer had the strength to remain upright so allowed his aching body to slide sideways, back onto the floor.

All this concentration was taking his energy and he was starting to feel dizzy again – an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach.

Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the swelling nausea. When that didn't work – he found himself curling into a protective ball without even realising. He knew that if he were stronger and more aware, he would have been disgusted by his behaviour right now. Showing blatant weakness instead of appearing strong while at the mercy of an enemy.

Still, the position did little to ease the sick feeling in his stomach and he found himself actually wishing for unconsciousness to return.

Head resting lightly against the cool stone floor, Scar was almost out cold when the door of the room outside opened.

The sudden grating sound of heavy metal against stone caused the dozing Ishbalan to nearly jump out of his skin. Fully awake now, Scar raised his head – ignoring the dizziness it brought – and squinted against the light held by the visitor when it fell upon him.

'Ahh, so you _are_ awake? I was beginning to wonder if it was a reaction to the sedative I gave you….'

Even in his dazed and confused state, Scar had no trouble recognising the whispered voice and scooted back against the wall as much as his aching body would allow.

Setting the lamp down on the floor, the visitor walked slowly over to the bars.

'Please calm down. It is not my intention to hurt you but if you refuse to cooperate I may have no choice.' – it said as it curled a hand around one of the bars and gazed calmly down at the trembling man inside.

_Wait…trembling?_ Sure enough –whether it was from the bitter cold or the effect of this creature being in the same room as him – a fine tremor made its way down his body and did not stop.

Gritting his teeth against another wave of dizziness, Scar glared at the being through the bars.

'You're…Shou Tucker….the Sewing…..Life Alchemist.'

His throat felt dry and sore and what came out was nothing more than a raspy whisper. But the thing behind the bars smiled slowly – proving that he had heard it.

'Yeeees. Although, I am curious, you don't seem that _surprised_ by my appearance?'

Startled? Maybe.

But surprised?

No. Scar knew exactly who this was.

After he had killed that poor creature in the alley he had overheard the guards talking about the Sewing Life Alchemist and how he was destined for execution for using his own family to create talking chimeras. He had even seen the man being lead away from Central HQ in chains en-route to his execution.

This monster didn't deserve something as civilised as an execution and Scar had been torn over whether to follow the transport just so he could deliver justice to the man himself. In the end he had decided to stay away and let the military handle it. A decision he now regretted deeply.

As for Tucker's _appearance_….. A man who was willing to use his own family as test subjects obviously would not be put off by the thought of using is own body for the sake of progress.

Propping himself against the wall Scar bared his teeth in a snarl – breathing hard through clenched teeth.

'Hn….for…an abomination like you…no…I'm not surprised.'

To Scar's dismay – Tucker's smile only widened and he opened the door to the Ishbalan's cell and stepped inside.

As the chimera entered his cell any anger he felt through his haze filled mind abruptly fled. It was one thing to glare at the former State Alchemist through bars but it was an entirely different matter when the monster – who defiled his very beliefs – came within reaching distance.

The drug still heavy in his system – his thoughts were sluggish and his movements uncoordinated but Scar still managed to scramble back, pressing himself as tightly against the wall as he could – crimson eyes going wide with fright as the huge chimera advanced on him.

Staring down mildly at the shaking human, Tucker crouched down a few feet away before lashing out – hand wrapping tightly around an ankle - he tugged it harshly, pulling the struggling man towards him easily.

When the former State Alchemist's hand latched onto his ankle, Scar couldn't stop the cry of shock and fear and thrashed wildly, trying to escape the hold. His head must be getting foggier because he hadn't seen Tucker's hand move until it was on him.

'…LET GO…OF…_ME!_' – Gasping, Scar kicked out viciously but in his weakened state he was no match for the much larger creature and Tucker continued to tug him forward until he was satisfied Scar was close enough to work with - in reach of the lamp light.

The wave of relief when the hand left his leg was short lived as Scar found himself being flipped roughly onto his front with another hand placed between his shoulder blades and a large knee pressed on the small of his back – affectively pinning him to the floor.

Panic set in.

His thrashing intensified and he lashed out with everything he had in an attempt to throw the alchemist off. Blood was pounding in his ears and his breathing came in shallow gasps.

It was all too much.

For a horrifying moment his vision greyed around the edges and his struggles slowed.

All the while Tucker calmly waited for him to tire – holding onto him with relative ease and a sad smile on his face.

'I told you it is not my intention to hurt you…..In fact, my only wish is to make you _better_.'

Scar just listened, his eyes already half-closed and unfocused – both his mind and his body having gone beyond the point of exhaustion. Still, Tucker's statement about making him 'better' caused a surge of terror in the Ishbalan's muddled mind and he knew he should be doing everything in his power to try and escape before he found out what the deranged alchemist had planned.

But he was just so _tired_.

Sensing that the struggle was over, Tucker leaned back slightly to stare at the weary Ishbalan with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Moving the hand from Scar's back, Tucker reached up to stroke his fingers lightly through the mans' white hair in a gesture that once soothed his dear Nina.

To him, the Ishbalans truly were an amazing race – one he had longed to be allowed to use in his research. But alas, the higher-ups in the military had deemed such an idea inhumane.

Shame.

Reaching into a small bag, concealed at his waist Tucker pulled out a syringe filled with a pale pink liquid and removed the cap with his teeth – his other hand never stopping in its' slow movement through the Ishbalan's hair.

Scar barley flinched when the needle slid into his neck. The cold liquid filled his veins and his harsh breathing slowed to a gentler, more even rhythm – the slivers of crimson disappearing altogether behind closed lids.

'_Don't worry my friend. When you awaken everything will be better…even you.'_

**TBC…..**

_**Thank you for the reviews….I must have more!**_


	3. Chapter 3  Skin and Bones

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist and make no gain from this.**_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed._

_Awwww…Ya know, I really should feel guilty about all the pain I'm putting poor Scar through but…_

…_Nah. He's a big, tough Ishbalan with god on his side so who am I kidding._

_He comes chapter 3!_

**Chapter 3 – Skin and Bones**

_Light._

_He was barely conscious but for a brief moment his whole being was consumed by nothing but brilliant, blinding light. It burned his eyes even behind the closed lids and for a few terrifying seconds he was aware of noise around him – like electricity crackling against the ground – it frightened him. _

_Tensing, he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, wanting nothing more than to curl himself inwards in an attempt to block out the horrible sound but found his body frozen in place – unable to move._

_A strange, burning sensation crept across his skin, permeating through to the muscles beneath. It started in his lower extremities and made its way slowly up his spine and into his already aching head._

_Taking in a deep breath against the slowly intensifying pain he tried to focus and get his bearings._

_The air around him was burnt – the faint smell of brimstone and smoke filled his nose, making his eyes to water despite being tightly closed and he coughed harshly as smoke caught in his throat._

_The pain in his body was becoming unbearable – his muscles were on fire, every nerve ending felt like it had been torn in two – but he kept his eyes firmly shut and after what felt like an eternity, the pain finally began to ease. _

_But as the pain receded, a bone deep exhaustion set in and he could feel himself drifting again but couldn't bring himself to fight the blissful darkness so he allowed his tired mind to slip back into sweet oblivion. _

Scar had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Time just seemed to slip by but he distinctly remembered waking up – back on the floor of his cell with Tucker standing over him. The chimera had an eerie smile on its face and its lips were moving – apparently Tucker was speaking to him but Scar was too far out-of-it to understand the words so he settled for staring dazedly at the former State Alchemist through half-lidded eyes.

Allowing his mind to drift through the haze, he was vaguely aware when Tucker came to check on him periodically.

The alchemist would roll him gently onto his back before lifting one heavy eyelid, checking his reaction with a penlight.

Other times he would give him water – allowing the Scar to sip carefully from the glass while Tucker supported him with careful an arm around his back.

Then there were times when the chimera would just sit next to him on the stone floor – stroking his back and hair and whispering in a gentle tone meant to soothe away worries and fears.

It was these visits he hated the most.

For they made him feel a sick and involuntary sense of sympathy for the man in that, once – a _long_ time ago – Tucker had probably been a loving, caring husband and father, who would have done anything for his family….

…..and Scar didn't want to have to feel anything but hatred and disgust for the man-turned-monster.

The next time Scar awoke his head felt clearer – not completely but certainly a lot less hazy than before.

He found himself laying face-down on the cell floor he was startled at the feel softness beneath his cheek and cautiously cracked open an eye to reveal a sea of soft and, slightly fuzzy, dark blue.

A blanket. …what?

It was thick and…woollen and…_warm!_

He didn't know how long he had been laying on the floor in the freezing cell but it was long enough for his hands and feet to go completely numb, and for most of his muscles to cease as they tried to conserve what little body heat he had.

But the blanket felt _wonderful_ against chilled skin and he realised – with a sick grimace – that he actually felt grateful to the former State Alchemist for giving it to him.

Crimson eyes opening fully, he carefully tilted his head up to look out through the bars, seeing if Tucker was still in the room but – mercifully – he was alone for the time being.

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before trying to push himself up – rolling hesitantly onto his side before using both arms to force himself up, onto his knees. Gritting his teeth – he expected to feel pain from the sudden movement – but instead, all he felt was a dull, burning ache along the length of his body – like his muscles were still trying to recover from being stretched too far, too quickly.

He steadied himself carefully and once he was convinced that he was _not_ going to fall flat on his face again, Scar sat back and stared down at his body nervously.

What had that….alchemist….that _madman_…done to him?

But glancing over his form he could not immediately see anything different or out of place. Pulling his sleeve up to the elbow, Scar inspected his right arm, running the fingers of his left hand gently over the distinctive markings of the tattoo – but they too remained unchanged.

And yet…he felt….different.

But Scar couldn't put his finger on it.

Reaching up to pull the sleeve back down to cover the tattoo, something moving caught his eye and he froze in shock.

Laying next to him on the floor, something long and white snaked its way around his knees, coming to rest lightly on the floor on his other side and disappearing back behind him.

Paralysed with fear, Scar stared at the thing on floor while images of all the deadly reptiles he had been taught to avoid in the desert as a child ran through his mind a mile a minute as he fought to identify it as being dangerous or not.

He was so caught up in concentration that when the 'thing' twitched suddenly it caused him to cry out in surprise. Half rising, Scar lurched sideways – intent on getting to his feet as he moved – but as he gathered his feet under him his knees buckled unexpectedly and he spilled to the floor in a flurry of limbs. Glancing over his shoulder Scar could still see the 'thing' rising up behind him and he kicked out in warning – but all this accomplished was to tangle the blanket around his feet, trapping him further.

He fought harder – knees scraping painfully against stone through the thin fabric of his clothes Scar dug his hands into the ground, fully intent heaving himself forward – away from the danger when suddenly – he stopped.

Eyes blinking widely, Scar stared at his hands in horror.

How could have not noticed it before.

His hands – clawed as they were, the fingers imbedded in shallow furrows on the stone floor – were covered in fine silvery-white hair. No…not hair…..fur! Glistening in the narrow light from the cell window, a downy fur stretched from just below the wrists, ending at the knuckles where fingers and thumb began.

Raising one hand cautiously he stroked his fingers over the wrist of his other hand with a kind of sick fascination, unable to process what was happening. Allowing his fingers to glide gently over the hand he discovered that the fur was surprisingly soft – and thick – becoming thinner once he reached his back of the hand, closer to the fingers and thumb.

So engrossed in the examination of the fur on his arms, Scar didn't notice the 'thing' again until it flopped down beside him with a light _'thump'_.

Jumping in surprise he glanced nervously at it – only now taking the time to really look at it.

As he noted from before, it was white and long…very long, only now one end of the 'thing' rested next to his head where he could see it and that – it too – was covered in silvery fur, descending into a thicker tuft of white with a solid black tip at the very end.

Scar could barely contain the sick, terrifying feeling that settled in his stomach as he followed it with his eyes until it disappeared behind him.

He had a horrible feeling he knew where it ended.

Slowly, cautiously and not entirely sure he wanted to but needing to know – Scar reached out to lightly brush his fingers over the length of it and the sick terror gave way to open despair.

He could _feel_ where his fingers stroked along the soft, silvery fur.

Swallowing thickly Scar peered cautiously over his right shoulder and fought back a sob.

The other end of the silvery appendage disappeared beneath his tunic and now that he was focused on it he could actually feel where it merged at the base of his spine…..a part of him.

Tears stung his eyes as he finally allowed the sob he had been barely holding back to escape only for it to be followed by another….and another.

_A chimera…a freak…a monster…_

…..Tucker had turned him into an _abomination_ – just like the man himself.

Unable to contain his rage and his anguish Scar collapsed against the cold, stone floor – his entire frame shaking with grief.

He could never go back…he would never be _normal_ again. It was bad enough that he was tainted by alchemy but now he was a…a….._product_ of it as well.

After what felt like a lifetime, his sobs quieted and his shaking eased to a slight tremble in his limbs.

Suddenly he was exhausted – so far beyond what his traumatised body and mind could withstand that he barely felt himself moving as he carefully picked the blanket from around his feet, laying it out flat on the stone floor before curling himself into it, tiredly.

He didn't want the alchemist to see him like this – crying and shaking like a leaf – broken by grief.

_No._

He was strong and he was going to make Tucker _pay _for what he had done to him.

Eyes drifting shut, Scar swore that the next time he saw the chimera…he was going to _kill_ him.

He got his chance soon enough.

The next time Tucker came to check on him – as soon as the chimera opened the cell door the enraged Ishbalan launched himself at him.

If Scar had been in a calmer frame of mind he probably would have thought it through more carefully. But he was so unbearably angry that all reason fled as soon as he heard the lock on the cell door click open.

He should have thought it through and realised belatedly that Tucker was as close to an expert on making chimeras as one could get and so wouldn't have any problem subduing a subject, should one of the beasts decide to attack him.

Right arm outstretched and aiming for the chimeras' head, Scar was just inches away when a hand shot out and gripped his wrist, yanking his arm down and away from its intended target while keeping a firm hold of the limb.

With his right wrist captured in the alchemists' crushing grip, it left the rest of Scar's body wide open and vulnerable to attack and Tucker did not hesitate for a second. Grip tightening around the wrist in his hand Tucker easily slid the needle concealed in his other hand into the stunned Ishbalan's exposed left shoulder.

Scar didn't have time to think as the drug entered his system, making his knees weak and his thoughts hazy. The same feeling he had when he first woke up in the cell.

Tossing the Ishbalan back onto the floor like a dog, Tucker smiled in amusement.

'Well now…I thought we were making progress but it looks like a little more _training_ is needed.'

Scar lay where he landed, heavily on his front. Unable to move and barely able to think, he could only watch with fearful eyes as Tucker knelt down and leaned over his back, above him. When he saw the alchemist reach for his throat over his shoulders, he closed his eyes tightly and pressed himself into the floor.

Was Tucker going to kill him?

A part of him – deep within his aching soul – wished Tucker would just kill him and end his pain. But the chimera only touched him to thread something under his chin and around his throat before getting up and heading back over to the cell door.

Opening his eyes slowly, Scar watched Tucker lock the door behind him before turning and smiling that same sad smile as before.

'You have no idea how distressing it is to see someone like yourself in a cage. Perhaps, in time, you will come to accept the perfection I've given you and show you appreciation by doing as I ask.' With that, Tucker left.

If he could, Scar would have spat at the former State Alchemist.

Perfection?

Alchemy didn't create perfection – that was God's work. Alchemy only twisted and mutilated things from their original form into something unnatural and grotesque…..like him.

His still shuddered whenever he thought about the alchemy that changed him. The unnatural energy slithering over his skin and shaping his body into something so…so….._wrong_.

A rumbling sound reached his ears and he startled, surprised when he realised that the noise reverberating soft around the cell was coming from him.

When did I start growling? He wondered vaguely but his mind was slowly giving out and his eyes slid shut and he slipped into unconsciousness once again.

After his attack, Tucker kept him dosed constantly – never allowing Scar to wake up with a clear head.

Unfortunately this also left the Ishbalan barely able to move and whenever he did have to move it was a tremendous struggle that always left him feeling exhausted and shaky.

Tucker checked in on him from time-to-time – bringing him food and water. Although Scar accepted the water, he hardly touched the food that was offered to him. Initially unable to stomach food due to the drug in his system, Tucker had lowered the dosage slightly, but now the Ishbalan found the whole idea of food unappealing.

Maybe if he starved himself to death Tucker would leave him alone.

His declining health hadn't gone unnoticed either.

Every evening after injecting him with the drug, Tucker would attach an IV to his arm and sit with him and gently stroke his hair until the contents of the bag was completely absorbed into his body.

Scar knew Tucker was only delaying the inevitable and to add to the alchemists' concerns, Scar developed a slight fever along with an increasingly bad cough – probably brought on from being constantly cold in his damp cell every night.

The ache in his body was a constant now. Although he was unsure whether it was from the transmutation or his illness but he longed to just sleep….and never wake up.

In was during one of these fuzzy moments, after receiving his evening dose, that Scar was shaken awake by a loud explosion followed by muffled yelling somewhere outside.

Where he lay, resting on his side, Scar raised his head as much as his pained body would allow – which was barely off the floor. Curious, he strained to hear what was being yelled but his head was just too clouded after the dose, so let it drop back onto the blanket.

Blinking tiredly, he could hear more yelling only this time it was much closer.

Another explosion and suddenly…..silence.

With the silence returned Scar felt himself drifting off to sleep and was only vaguely aware when the door of the room outside opened.

**TBC…..**

_**Well, that's Chapter 3 done.**_


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